Think Pink, Drink Pink

Breast Cancer touches million of lives each year and is supported throughout the country with the symbolic color pink. This year Scotty’s Brewhouse is running a “Think Pink, Drink Pink,” campaign to coincide with October’s Breast Cancer Awareness month.

In October for every $9 Lucy’s Cosmo purchased, $1 of every drink sold will go to the Susan G. Komen Foundation.

“We decided on the Lucy Cosmo because it is one of our most famous drinks, and of course because it is pink,” said Amber Martin, Scotty’s Brewhouse Beverage and Promotions Director.

Scotty’s will also be selling shirts that adorn the breast cancer ribbon and the slogan “proud in pink, until there’s a cure.” The creative team behind the Brewhouse apparel also made a men’s shirt with the slogan, “Real Men Wear Pink.”

“We had so much demand for these in the past, that we are bringing them back,” said Martin.

The shirts are available in S-XXL and run $20 a piece. $5 from every regular priced shirt sold will be donated to the cause. There are other ways to get involved with this organization such as volunteering, joining their e-newsletter, or just increasing awareness of breast health issues among those you know.

“We would like [Scotty’s Brewhouse Customers] to remind everyone they know to get their annual mammogram and support the cause by supporting the organizations that are raising money,” said Dana Curish, Executive Director of the Susan G. Komen Indianapolis Affiliate.

“I decided I wanted to do something for this cause because breast cancer has such a wide-reaching effect on almost every person in the country. My grandmother had breast cancer and a mastectomy. Knowing that cancer is very hereditary, I am trying to promote a lifestyle of awareness and prevention. I think that the National Breast Cancer Research Foundation has done a great job promoting October as the month to give attention to this cause,” said Scott Wise, owner of Scotty’s Brewhouse.

One in every eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer throughout their lives. This means that almost everyone will be touched in some way by this disease.

Everyone in the Brewhouse family is doing their part, “we are trying to teach our customers and staff that breast cancer can happen to anyone, even someone they love so they should support the cause,” said Martin.

For more ideas on how to help, visit the Susan G. Komen foundations website at www.komenindy.com. If you have a cause which you would like for Scotty’s Brewhouse to get involved with e-mail Amber Martin at amartin@scottysbrewhouse.com or locate a manager at your closest location. Scotty’s Brewhouse is always looking for more ways to help and do all they can every day.

Friday, June 08, 2007 (the date I originally wrote this blog - re-posted today). Do you remember where you were when you heard or watched it all happening? That's always the question asked. Scotty's Brewhouse had been open for 5 years in Muncie. We had been open in Bloomington for 2 years. Tuesdays were the day I held a weekly office management meeting. Every Tuesday, 8 am. I'm the kind of person that needs background "white" noise to keep me sane. I don't watch the tv or listen to the radio; but, I need it on just as a distraction. This being said, my desk and I faced the bleary, red-eyed, tired managers listening to me discuss the upcoming Ball State Homecoming Parade and some kind of all-u-can-eat wing special I wanted to introduce. Their backs were to the tv across the room in my office. The discussion on which beer to run on special ended abruptly. In a matter of minutes, it really didn't matter that our servers were not cleaning their tables fast enough… thousands of people had just died. You know how you think back to "flashbacks" in your life and you remember little snippets, like a little piece of a movie? That's how I remembered that day, I can remember peering over one of my managers heads, seeing the tv screen and wondering, "what the hell did that plane just crash into a building for?" I remember the rest of the day was so "dreary and foggy." It felt like the feeling you had as a kid when you couldn't find your mom or dad in the grocery store or mall. You felt lost, with no hope. The person or thing that is supposed to protect you and hold you when you are scared, was gone. That's how I felt that day. I felt like Mom/Dad United States couldn't protect us, we didn't know what was happening, where it was happening next or why. That feeling of desperation and fright will stick with me forever. There's another reason why I will never forget 9/11. It's my birthday. I've never been sad to share this day with those that lost their lives. For God's sake, I'm still alive and celebrating life, how could I be upset about that. At first, I hated giving my birth date to people on the phone, or in the airport, for credit card authorizations or the like. People always said, "I'm sorry." Sorry for what, I thought? I'm not sorry. I'm proud. I'm proud to remember those people every year. It is not my day, it is theirs. Hell, birthdays lose their fun after the age of 21 anyway. And, very few of my friends forget my birthday now. The fact that it is tied to one of, if not the, worst tragedies in American history… more than 3000 people will never celebrate a birthday again. I love to shop. Always have. Always will. I love clothes and fashion. Might have been the 2 sisters and no brothers that did that to me. And, I love New York. The shopping and dining capital of the world. My mom, dad, wife and I would take a trip to New York every Fall to shop and see a Broadway show to celebrate my birthday. We had our annual trip planned for late September that year of the tragedy. We all talked and decided, if they are letting planes fly into NYC, we will still go. New York needed the support of tourists at that time more than ever. I will tell you what, I will never, ever forget that trip. The smells, the sights, the sounds... all etched in my memory forever. From the armed guards and dogs at the airport, to talking to people in the stores. I would ask people if they felt comfortable talking about it, to tell me where they were, what they saw, what were they feeling now. I heard stories of brave men and women helping each other. I heard stories of fear. I saw tears and sometimes, no words. One person told me that they just started running across the bridges covered in soot, dust and crying…. not knowing where they needed to go; but, just away from the blast. We decided to go visit one of the fire stations that lost many men and women in the tragedy. In front of the fire station were banquet tables set out covered with pictures of the fallen, candles burning, flowers and cards all over the walls of fire station… There were cards from school children from all over the United States. As I was looking and watching and thinking and crying, I didn't notice but one of the firemen was behind me watching us. He was tall, burly and looked tired. I turned around and walked up to him, stuck my hand out and pulled him into me with a warm embrace. I just told him, "we are here for you." As I pulled away and wiped my tears, I watched him cry and walk away. September 11 will never be forgotten.

Road Rage with Age...

So, I'm driving down Allisonville and I'm in the left lane. Why? Well, the right lane merges into the left lane in about 200 yards. This happens many times a day, as this is my route home. So, I am very accustomed to what is about to happen. But, nonetheless, it still drives me abso-fucking-lutely bonkers every time.

I glance over to the right and I see Cowboy Bob in his pick up truck. His dog "Skeeter" is in the back. His wife sits beside him touching up her 3 foot thick foundation of makeup, while spraying a fresh coat of Aqua Net Hairspray into her State Fair hair.

Cowboy Bob looks over at me while chewing on a tumbleweed and tips his hat. This is a sign that it's "Go Time." It's time to play a little game of chicken. So, like all men in my family that posses a common trait called ROAD RAGE, I floor it and give him no room to squeeze into my lane. For fuck's sake, he knew his lane was merging, he call fall behind. I win this round; but, like I said, this scenario plays out many times a day. Depending my mood and how the day went, decides whether I turn into Tony "Scotty" Stewart, or Ja-Ja-Ja-Ja-Jimmy Stewart.

If you are over the age of 80, I'm not shittin' – YOU need to turn in your driver's license. Either that, or you have to use the pedal on the right. It is called the "gas" pedal. Use it!

If you drive on the highway, I have 2 BIG rules that everyone needs to start using:

1)
Use your Cruise Control damn it! You people that drive up on my ass, I get over to let you pass and then you decide to let up and let me drive right up on you… for God's sake man, if I didn't have a son to take care of I would like to just drive right into your ass like Kobe in Colorado!

2)
Do not sit in the left lane. This is the FAST lane. It is your duty as an American to get over to the right and let me pass you. I don't care if a Semi is 300 yards away, let me get around you. You can come back over and clog up the highway after I zoom past.

SIDENOTE: all police officers reading this, remember that Scotty's Brewhouse offers uniformed officers 25% off, daily. I also only drive the speed limit. If you still aren't impressed, then go back to eating your donut, Ponch.

A few other miscellaneous peeves:

Unless you want a serious case of whiplash, use your turn signal. GMC put it on your car for a reason.

If you are in a convertible and you have the top down, why do you put the windows up? If it is to protect your hair, it is too windy or too hot/cold – then put the top back up dildo.

If you have a bumper sticker that says something like, "My kid is on the Honor Roll at…" I've given Slater permission to kick your kid's ass when he is in school.

Please don't put more than 2 bumper stickers on your car. (allowing for a Scotty's sticker and a Colts sticker).

If you are shopping at Marsh or picking up some treats for Spot at Petsmart, do me a favor. Just respect the fact that I'm in a 3000 pound machine that could make you look like a Bloody Mary Pancake. I'm gonna' let you walk by; but, just be a little respectful about it. Maybe a little wave to say thank you. Or, maybe that fake "run/walk" where your legs still go the same speed; but, your arms are moving quicker – to give the illusion that you are walking quickly to get out of my way.

Alright, I'm sure I'll think of more as I drive around today. If you have some you'd like to add, I'd love to hear from you, post your pet peeves here.